


Respawn

by redscout



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9918812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redscout/pseuds/redscout
Summary: Fresh meat of the team sounds fine and dandy-- that is, until you kick the bucket. And there's a first for everything.





	

It felt like a dream. It was all cloudy and hazy, and it overwhelmed his senses in ways that remained incomprehensible. It was a rush, and then suddenly, all at once, it wasn't. Noise faded, darkness set in, and he knew suddenly, for sure, _this is it. The end._

He couldn't tell who he was anymore when a sharp jolt brought the real world spinning back into view, and an uncontrolled scream ripped through his lungs as he realized with sudden urgency what had happened. He stood completely uneasy on his feet, unsure of where or what he was, a hand gripping tightly at the nape of his neck. With slow intensity, he recounted what he knew.

_Your name... is Scout. You're 18 years old. You just got this lucrative job, and you just--_

His chest constricted painfully and he was thrown backwards as his own centre of balance swung with the world around him. He'd _died._ And then _come back to life,_ nothing short of a horror movie. War was supposed to be, ultimately final, but apparently it wasn't. Death was not the last course of life, and that was a lot to take in.

The rest of the day was nothing but a blur as he sat hunched in what he'd been told was the medbay, on top of one of the sterile operating tables scattered throughout the room. Now was hardly the time to get squeamish over doctors; his anxiety reigned, and he sat tightly folded in on himself, waiting for something, someone to come in. Time passed by quicker in his muddied perception of the world, as only the flared siren indicating the end of the day (as he'd taken it) awoke the scout from his self-induced trance. Heavy footsteps alighted outside in the hallway, muddled, low voices accompanying them. The team was back, but he realized with shame he wasn't ready to face them; day one, and he'd already botched his only job.

He nearly tosses himself off of the table as one of the double doors swings open, and the doctor of the team briskly enters, stopping nearly immediately.

"Scout?" he inquires suddenly, and the younger man tries to get ahold of himself. He still wasn't used to that name.

"Uh. Hey, doctor..." he trails off in a breath, trying with tangible anxiety to remember the name of the team's medic. The man in front of him smiles, and then sweeps his way behind Scout before responding again.

"I've told you, just call me Medic." Scout takes this in, and then breathes.

"M-Medic." He pauses, and glances away, trying to find words. "I hope the team ain't mad at me. For, uh, skippin'." The medic turned to look at him, a curiously puzzled look plastered onto his face.

"Skipping? What's the matter?" he asked lightly, detaching that fancy gun of his from his backpack and placing it on a nearby cart. It was clear he wasn't giving the younger man his full attention, but his body language caught the doctor's eye, and a knowing smile soon spread onto his face. "Oh! That's right, you're new! How was dying?"

The excited tone of the response caught the scout completely off guard, and then, abruptly, his chest tightened all over again, and he held himself furiously, unable to breathe. Sweat began to bead at his forehead, and the medic's expression of wonderment vanished, turning to face Scout apprehensively. He kicked himself off the table shakily and approached the wall with a hitch, doubled over.

"I'm gonna be sick," he spluttered, and Medic made a dive for the trashcan two moments too late as the baseball player heaved up that morning's breakfast onto the floor. The doctor could only stand and watch with awe, as if he hadn't seen this kind of thing a thousand times prior, until Scout had puked up a good portion of whatever had been resting in his gut. Tears perked at the corners of his eyes, and he sat down suddenly, in a heap, trying to wipe his face down with messy handiwork. Medic thought about moving to his aid, but held his place, waiting for the boy to finish.

"Is that... supposed to happen? Th-the dyin' thing," finally left his lips, and the German man watched him carefully for a while, an abashed grin spreading across his lips.

"Er... yes." And he could see the flash of anxiety in the Scout's eyes, thrusting the small trashcan toward him moments before the young man let loose another wave of heaving nausea. "Nervous, hm?" he asked aloud, foregoing the possibility of a response as he turned swiftly on his heel to squat at the scout's side. "More sleep helps with that, you know," he added, and the younger man glanced over at him with damp, pinked cheeks and somewhat of an astonished expression on. He pulled back lethargically, and then ran a shaky hand down the length of his face once more.

"That was just... a lot to take in. I think," he stated, softly, trying to even his breathing to regain composure. The medic gave him a sympathetic smile and rose, offering a hand to the man on the floor, who took it with palpable gratitude and sweaty palms. When he'd risen, he dusted himself off sheepishly.

"Aheh... you get used to it, comrade," the medic offered, a gentle hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You know that chip installed to your, erm, spine, when you first arrived here?" The scout nodded, dumbfounded. "That's a little invention by our very own engineer, and also yours truly. It's respawn technology! It ensures that if you die within proximity of the battlefield you will surely come back to life, in one piece, I may add!" Scout fingered the back of his neck tenderly once more, the shock fading from his expression ever slowly.

"How's it work? You're not supposed to bring people back from th' dead, ain't you learned anything from zombie flicks?" And that comment earned the scout a laugh from the elder man, who patted his back with rugged authority.

"Heavens, no! Mein freund, if we took _any_ 'rational' knowledge from movies about zombies, our species would surely be doomed!" Scout took this answer in with a frown, scratching his arm awkwardly. "Besides, that's _magic_ you're thinking of. I only work with science! That chip in your neck combines _my_ Medi-gun technology with the engineer's teleportation functions. It ensures you will rapidly regrow your entire body from that one little piece of spine, even if you're blown to bits! Oh, and end up in the same place." He stops, thinking for a moment. "We just call it respawn. Like I said, you will get used to it." Scout shifts testingly on his heels, hands twining together with furrowed eyebrows.

"...You promise?" he starts slowly, and Medic throws him an assuring smile.

"On my heart," the doctor concludes, and then inches him towards the door with both hands. "Now, if that's all, please get out-- I have to clean something up!" Scout starts to move towards the door looking like a guilty dog, but Medic stops him again, abruptly, adding a laugh.

"Oh! And you get used to the murdering, too!"


End file.
